I Live By The Sword
by neechan100
Summary: One night Lord Sasaki Kujuurou a.k.a. Cale buys Suiren, a village girl, who forces him to look at his human side for the first time in many years.


**Running Scared**

Disclaimer: I'll say it once, I'll say it again. I do not own Ronin Warriors…although I wish I did, because I'd expand it as it's a brilliant but concise anime. The following, and whatever I have written on this cite is a personal hobby.

The beginning introduces the O.C., Suiren. It's not graphic.

--

The tears Suiren wanted to cry did not come. She was hungry, cold, and terrified to death, but there was nothing she could do to relieve it until she satisfied her master, Taisho. The past three days he beat her with a bamboo stick until bruises purpled her everywhere with bruises except her face, neck, and hands--"Otherwise I won't get a sen for you if you're ugly," he told her. Tonight, the maids whittened her face with a delicate rice powder and her lips a bold shade of vermillion. Taisho reserved the garish, yellow and red butterfly motif for Suiren to wear tonight.

She felt like a prostitute.

There was no honor here.

A sharp rap on her thigh brought her attention back to the present. She was sitting on a bench in front of a barred verandah thrust in the middle of the street. Korin, her senior by six months, gave her a chilly glare.

"You will never make it here if you don't pay attention," she said sharply. Oddly enough, her cold expression melted into a beautiful, red-lipped smile. The other prostitutes called out to the men on the street in high, saccharine voices. Taisho's women were experts in speech, even if they were just common prostitutes looking for customers. They sounded almost genuine, as though already friendly with the men who passed by, although Suiren knew each women acheived this only by thinking of the men's money in an almost "friendly" manner: money was the key to food, new blankets, medecine, and perhaps freedom.

Suiren tried to imitate their girlish voices and suggestive remarks, but she was too embarrassed. Her heart was more firmly set against this kind of life than the desperate women sitting next to her. She would rather die than suffer this indignity, although she never felt entitled to dignity. Her home was in a small village held together by sticks, mud, and stone. She never owned more than one proper kimono at a time in her life, and even then it was either patched together from old kimono or a well-handed down hand-me-down. Her father was a fisherman until he became sick, and though he struggled to keep the family fed, there was no reason for her to want for more than she needed.

One man stopped to look at Korin. She made a suggestive remark, then proposed he spent a night at the brothel. The man turned to Taisho and then began to haggle aggressively.

"Nothing less than twenty coppers…" Taisho insisted. "Korin is one of my best..."

"Twenty coppers?" the man demanded incredulously. "I can get a nighthawk for eighteen." Nighthawks were prostitutes not regulated by the provincial state. They had no master or mistress above them, as Taisho controlled his women, but the deterioration of the soul was the same.

Sometimes Suiren's belly ached so bad in those hungry days after her father became sick that she would have killed to eat. Now hunger seemed so trivial to her. Up until tonight Suiren had been conveniently ignored by clients because she was too quiet. This afternoon Taisho said she had better get on it, or he would cut her rations. And so the hunger began.

The men were still haggling. Taisho was undeterred. He was an Ainu and therefore had abundant facial hair, which he liked to twirl around his fingers when he had a particularly interesting idea. "Yes, if you were to be caught by one of the lord's retainers…here, you pay the extra two coppers to avoid that."

Then everything grew quiet. Everyone stopped talking. The prostitutes pressed their shadowed, white faces against the bars to see what was going on. Taisho and the man knelt; as a sign, everyone in the street, including the prostitutes, knelt. Suiren lowered herself to the ground carefully. It was the provincial lord. He had a reputation for being uncultured for his kind, but why would he visit such a seedy place?

Suiren lifted her eyes only enough to catch a glimpse of his banner-bearing entourage on horseback as it stopped in front of the brothel's main entrance. Taisho humbly stepped forward, crawling on his knees.

Raiha laughed bitterly behind her fan. "Watch the worm grovel now."

From her limited view between the bars, Suiren glimpsed an ornately-armored male dismount. His shin-guards were embroidered with red and green cloth and interchanging gold threads, bound together and reinforced by strips of lamellae--made of a brillant metal that gleamed across his stately vestments. His armor tunic was made of the finest crimson silk Suiren had ever seen, also embroidered with metallic gold phoenixes. The lord's helmet was probably made of solid brass and plumed with emerald feathers, but the armor mask attached to it was terrifying, even from the side. The face-plate was black, with the figure of a demon outlined in red, white and black lines like a Noh mask she had seen when she was young. He carried a _no-datchi--_an impressive weapon far longer and heavier than the average sword a samurai carried.

The lord spoke to Taisho (who remained on his knees) before proceeding to the barred verandah. Some of the prostitutes were eager; what the lord could pay for an ordinary night could clear their debts and free them forever. But it would be disrespectful to look him in the eye. As he approached her seat, Suiren noted his armor and tunic were too gaudy to belong to a lord; this was his younger brother: twenty-year-old Lord Sasaki Kujuurou.

"This one should do."

His fingers drummed against the bars. Though she could not hear his voice, Taisho was putting on his business-man persona once again, although now coupled with the attitude of a groveling citizen. "Ahhh, a fine choice, fine choice, Honorable Master." Suiren looked around for the girl, but it was getting dark. "She is a new girl to the establishment…and her purity is garunteed." That explanation implied the cost was higher, although it would be imprudent for Taisho to say this directly.

Lord Sasaki's tone was skeptical. "Yeah, I've heard of that before."

"I would not lie to you, Honorable Master." Taisho waved his hands and folded them together. "On my honor--"

"Which isn't much to speak of," Sasaki deduced sarcastically. Suiren admired his wit.

"--this girl is chaste. Should you be dissatisfied with her in any way, I will refund your payment, plus interest."

"If I am dissatisfied with her, not only am I getting my refund, my interest, and you will lose your head."

Without warning, there was a sudden flash of steel and everyone in the street gasped affright. Suiren's eyes were fixed on the long, steel blade that had slit through the air in a breath. Lord Sasaki removed his face-mask. His jaw was rigidly set as his grip. The lines in his face highlighted his battle scars and made him seem as terrifying as death. The women, though terrified, might have burst out in laughter at their master. Taisho lowed his body while raising his hands in a placating gesture at the mercy of the _daimyo_'s brother. The brothel-owner raised his folded hands. "Oh, yes master! I assure you there will be no problem!"

"Twenty gold coins. That should be sufficient."

"I thank you for your generosity, master...My sincerest thanks."

"Yeah, whatever."

The lock clicked and the doors swung open. Taisho said, "Suiren, get up."

Suiren's face looked up in shock. _Me?_

"Pay respects to your master, stupid village wretch!_" _Taisho shouted_._

She quickly knelt at the young lord's feet, apologizing to him and praising him almost incoherently. Here she was again, on a new, scarier path.

_--_

Kujuurou mounted his horse and wet his lips thoughtfully. This one didn't seem bright, but she was doubtlessly beautiful enough to be more than a low-class prostitute. Her kimono and hair ornaments were gaudy and there were other prettier girls there, but the first thing he noticed about her was the fullness of her lips, which was something of a fetish for him. Her delicate chin, petal-shaped eyes and defined cheekbones gave her a somewhat innocent appearance, although he could tell she was from village stock and would barely know how to speak proper Japanese. Oh well, if he was interested in this woman, he really couldn't give a damn if she could quote Heian poetry, recite Chinese classics or engage in philosophical debate on Tang legalism or some other shit.

His horse neighed. They were approaching the residence.

--

Well, I wrote this in the wee hours of the morning, so if it sounds tired, it kind of is…I swear the next one is better! This is just an intro, anyway.


End file.
